


The colors of autumn

by Akatra



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothels, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love/Hate, Seduction to the Dark Side, Seeking power, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tragic Romance, all hail president baelish, complicated relationship, game of seduction, not my first language, political machinations, revenge story, unconfessable love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akatra/pseuds/Akatra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Eddard was going to win the presidential elections, the Lannister murdered him and his family. Sansa fail to escape and is caught up by Petyr Baelish, an enigmatic man she first believes in the balance of Lannister. However, is this man really what he seems to appear? What is his purpose? In a world where everyone seems to run after power, Sansa Stark attempt to carry out her revenge but also to break the mask of the man nicknamed Littlefinger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything disappears

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [La couleur de l'automne](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652155) by [Akatra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akatra/pseuds/Akatra). 



> Hello everyone! This fan fiction is originally a French fiction and this is a translation, so there will be probably many mistakes but I will do my best to make the most accurate translation of the original as possible.  
> It's a political story, a romance alseart. It starts slowly, and the first chapter is pretty special  
> (Well, Sansa falls in dementia ---- although I love it) but don't worry. The story goes forward.  
> I apologize once again for the many mistakes you can find into, but I hope you will kindly forgive me in your hearts.
> 
> The first chapters published will always be in French, but then I will translate them into English! Here we go for a translation project of the seven hells!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart, wearied of everything, even of the Expectancy,  
>  Will no longer bother fate with its wishes:  
>  Only lend me, Vale of my childhood,  
>  A one-day asylum to await the Death.

_Everything disappears and everything escapes_. Around her the world seemed to disappear, the walls become elusive forms were closing in on her, leaving her suffocating. She looked at the stairs standing behind her, one hand clutching her chest, feet rooted to the ground. A new step, her foot was cut out of the ground to return it flatten again, seeming to blend into the sloshing of the room. Under the light of the entrance hall, a long carpet preceded Sansa, seeming to have its source in the room of her parents. It shones in the fleeting lights in the room, sometimes taking the form of a syrupy stream, sometimes the appearance of her mother's auburn hair. In the spirit of Sansa, the difference between her mother's hair, hers, or the trail of blood that preceded seemed nonexistent; all mingled, the red hair of her mother, the blood of her father, her own hair, the whole room was closing in on her, suffocating her in its fragrance of hemoglobin. Jailing her in a scarlet ocean. "You _must_ get away" she said then, her feet seeming to ever deeper sinking into the ground. "You _must_ escape, before disappearing."

                The girl fell to the ground, unable to stop her trembling legs. She didn't understand what was happening and even less understand how this could have happen. Everything seemed so unreal, the room around her, her devastated house, the bodies of her parents, herself. She could no longer take her own life. Why escape? She only needed to be lulled by the movement of the world around her. To be swallowed up by this piece, by all that blood, hoping to never wake up, hoping to suffocate for good. She had nowhere to go, no one else to rely on. What value was therefore her life now? A lock of hair seemed to drag on her face, leaving a red trail down her cheek. Was it the blood that made her face so wet, or was it tears? Was she crying blood tears?

_"...sa!"  
"...ansa!"_

                 She felt a sharp pain on her cheek that went out of the torpor in which she was immersed in what seemed like an eternity. Arya's face then became clear to her, the first thing she could really relate to. She clung to such a salvation. Her younger sister was looking at her, covered in blood, a knife in her hand. Arya seemed to be the only thing that was not sinking in that room; she was still wearing her pajamas and her hair were disheveled, Sansa was not sure whether it was because she had fought or if it was because it was past two in the morning. The spirit of Sansa seemed to open gradually, and she noticed the blood dripping knife that Arya was holding. The knife from their father. Her face was tense, and her eyes were dark, electric. Her mouth moved and word reached the ear of Sansa. " _But what are you waiting for? We must get out of here, and fast!_ " desperately shouted the voice of her sister. " _You don't want to die here anyway, huh?_ " A flash of light. Suddenly the darkness. The door closed behind them, Arya holding her hand, they ran towards the woods.

                Fast, and always faster, Sansa feet pounded the floor, but her head floated through the trees and bushes. The night was clear, the stars shone, the moon was full. She could hear the sound of the wind leaves, the nocturnal sounds of nature. She could hear the animals, and she could hear voices. Dogs. She felt the hand of Arya tense and tighten hers harder, then let go.  
                - They sent the dogs, she said, looking at her sister, significantly. We can not stay together. You _must_ not, Arya said, smiling sadly. I'll slow down, passes. Continue straight, still straight. You should arrive at Winterfell ... See you there. Promise me.  
                - Wait, you're not going ... Ar ..

Before Sansa had time to protest, Arya was gone, vanished into the darkness. _Come back,_ she thought, the urge to scream ripping his heart. But she could not scream, she must not..  She could only run. She could only flee, only escape. _Everything disappears and everything escapes_. Then she ran through the trees, leaving fade the sound of dogs, leaving rub her home, her family. Escaping herself, because the fear of being erased too.

" _Come back, come back, come back._ "

                Sansa realized she was sobbing, painful feet, blood of red. Was it the blood of her parents, was it hers? Since when had she lost her shoes? She did not know. Around her turned the forest, making her lose her bearings. She hung brambles and stumbled, thrown on the floor. She rolled again, and again, not knowing where her fall was leading her, or even why she was falling. Her run stopping abruptly, she sobbed silently, curled up on herself.

" _Please, I want to wake up, I want it to end ..._ "

                When she was certain she finished hers descent, at least a good ten minutes after the fall, she tried to get up in a final effort, but could not. She looked at the stars, her view troubled with tears and she stopped her useless efforts. The wind was fresh, the sound of leaves relaxing. A cracking sound appears not far from her, breaking the religious silence of the forest, and Sansa felt her stomach tighten. She leaned on her elbows, directing her gaze to the origin of the crack, slowly. In the darkness, she could see almost nothing, and the blood was mixed with the tears in her eyes, which prevented her from discerning the human forms from the trees. This was probably a little animal, nothing too _dangerous_. A bird perhaps. At that thought, she relaxed and surveyed the scene around her. "I definitely left the path of Winterfell" thought the girl. The idea of Arya easily regain her was reassuring however, she should take the same path than her, and they probably would cross. " _If Arya manages to escape_ " whispered a little voice in her head that she silenced quickly. " _But escape whao?_ " the little voice continued, while Sansa held her head in her hands. She had no idea, she could not even thinking, her mind too busy to handle the stinging pain that felt her body.

                Not far from her, she noticed the dark shadow of a tree and crawled to go lean against it. Each movement was torture for the girl who felt her mind drop against the stabbing that came from the lower of her body and went back along her spine. Her mind was divided between lucidity and madness in which the same pain plunged her. She did not know if what she saw was real, if this tree existed. If she was alive. Concentrated in her task, she had not noticed the shifting light standing at barely a few tens of meters of her. She leaned against the trunk, and threw a glance at what was left of her body. From what she could see, her feet were covered with leaves and soil, as well as her legs. She put her trembling hand on her legs, over her face. The earth and the leaves were glued to the blood, and this dried mixture gave her a feeling of heaviness. She exhaled, and steam came out from her mouth. Her dress were torn during her flight and she realized, just now that she had stopped running, how she was cold. She tried to remember the feeling of warmth, the embrace of her father, the kisses her mother. But the evidence of their definitive absence in her life only aggravated the cravings, and increase the tremors of her body. She could not even cry, could not even breathe. She dropped to the side and wondered what colors the leaves that carpeted floor were. If they also formed a red carpet. " _After all, it is autumn.. this is normal that.. it' s so cold .._ " thought the girl.

                Then she noticed the light in the distance, the beam pointing in her direction, weak and trembling. Inwardly, she regretted not telling a proper goodbye to her sister. They had never been close, but Sansa had always deeply loved her. Cherished her deeply. She regretted all sorts of things, regretted the life she would not have, regretted her children's dreams. Her thoughts were a mixture of fear and sadness. The pain in her back gradually faded, giving way to tingling. The light came closer, playing with the shadows of trees and Sansa found herself now in the midst of a shadow carousels. All around her, everything seemed to go in slow motion, anyway she did have no chance to escape in her state. She focused on the light that was approaching increasingly, shaking leaf in her hand. Suddenly, the carousel stopped. Closing her eyes, her lips formed the words that her mouth did not say yet.

" _Of course_.. the leaves are red."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

_Sansa looked up at her father, Eddard Stark._  
_\- We're in what season, Dad?_  
_\- In autumn .. And winter comes right after, little wolf._  
_\- Winter ? asked the little girl, playing with dead leaves that carpeted the ground._  
_\- Yes, winter, Eddard said, smiling at his daughter, referring to the rest of the forest. Soon the snow will fall and soon it will be very cold. The trees will have no sheet at all, and the red leaves will be buried under the snow, everything will be white.  
_ _\- I do not like the cold, said Sansa, with a sad pout. And I like the red, like Mom's hair. And the trees, they will die?_

_Eddard watched the crestfallen Sansa, smiling, he approached her, stroking her head._  
_\- Winter is only a passage darling. In autumn, the trees die slowly. But winter cleans all that, and allows trees to heal and come back more beautiful and stronger than before. The tree right in front of you is the one to which your mother and I were married, and it has red leaves in spring, summer and automn._  
_\- Winter allow trees to come back harder, even if they lose their leaves and die?  
_ _\- Although stronger, and more beautiful than before! On the death always follows life, Ned replied, amused by septic eyes of the young child. All things must die, but you know what we say to  death? Not today._

 

\-----------------------------------------------------  
  


                Sansa felt arms lifting her, and instinctively she closed her arms around the person's neck. She seemed to smells the scent of mint, and to the voice of her father succeeded to the voice of another person, a voice she had never heard before. She opened her eyes but saw only the starry sky, and the leaves of the tree under which she lay. She saw the red leaves. She heard the voice trying to talk to her, to communicate with her, but she didn't wanted to answer. Yet she heard distinctly Arya first name, followed by the word Lannister. But nothing mattered now, only these two words. Her father's words.

"Not today..."


	2. A dangerous man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart is at rest and my soul is in silence:  
> The distant sound of the world fades when I arrive here,  
> Like a faraway sound which goes away at a distance,  
> Sent away by the wind to an uncertain ear.

                She opened her eyes, awakened by the noise of cars. The sheets which enveloped her were soft, warm. The mind still clouded, she rolled onto her back and her body reminded her what she had forgotten. What it would never forget. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, it took time to realize that she was not in her room, she had more room now. She stood up, leaning on her elbows. Gradually, as she realized, dull pain was growing in her heart. Silently, she examined the room that had served her as chamber; it was a room stripped of any decoration, sealed and sterile. All around her was white, _so white_. Wrapped in her blanket, she got out of bed and shivered when her foot touched the ground. It was white parquet, glossy, yet almost nine which did not appear any stripe. She went suddenly the sound around her empty account, only the traffic noise disturbed the heavy silence in this house. She listened, looking for any trace of life. She had not asked herself the question of why she had just woken up half-naked in a stranger bed, or even if he was an enemy or allied territory. Now she wondered. " _After all, I'm not chained or imprisoned_ " thought the girl even for her eyes this place over the appearance of a hospital as a residence.

                She dropped the blanket on the ground, and what she saw confirmed his suspicions. She was not wearing her white dress, _or_ _what was left of it_ , but a crumpled white shirt. A man's shirt. The girl floated in and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, a distinguished flagrance gave off, wrapping her own scent with a touch of mint. She continued to listen, but heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the motors. She left the room cautiously and examined her hands, then her legs. The strangeness of their cleanliness had not reached the spirit of Sansa before, but now that she thought about it, it should be covered in blood. _She felt covered in blood_. Her hair were soft and silky under her fingers, a tawny color. A color that made her feel sick. " _Someone washed. Cleaned. Changed._ " mused the girl, and the idea that someone had actually treated her injuries made her even more perplexed.

                She extended her exploration to the other end of the corridor, rooms after rooms, finding nothing other than furniture in plastic packaging, or when covered with white sheets. None of them had the look of hers, they were not white, and beige carpet covered the floor. Through the windows, she could determine that she was in a town house, a small garden separating the sidewalk from the front. On the horizon, buildings rose into the sky and the sun rose. The house was of a consistent size and Sansa was upstairs, the main staircase was leading the girl in a narrow hall. At the back of the hall, she could see the kitchen, and on one side and the other the dining room and living room. She decided to visit the show first, attracted by what she had glimpsed it. Cards and furniture dismantled it mixed, giving an aspect a little more living in this house that the floor had done. Visit this house was almost fun for the girl, allowing her to forget her other house. Away her spirit of bloody images that haunted his mind and sadness that pierced his heart. Contrary to the stage, the living room was not white, and even feminine. Two sofas with floral motifs around a wooden coffee table. Some vases were placed in the room empty. The mixtures were inharmonious, and even a little rough, but this view was a pleasure to the girl, reassured her. There was no television, no books, no telephone in the room, however, libraries being half removed and emptied of their contents. Sansa wondered about the idea of digging through those boxes, and resisted the urge to open it just lying in front of hrt. " _There is certainly nothing very interesting in the living room_ " tried to convince the girl.

                It was not that this house was not inhabited, but that it no longer was. The kitchen was empty, the empty dining room as well, the only thing left is the table located in the center, as well as chairs. " _That's all?_ " She realized, a little disappointed. She had not learned much, or anything that does not allow her to learn more about the owner of this house. She was certain that the shirt she wore was that of a man and a woman had lived in this house, but of her there remained no trace. No clothes, no flowers. Even pre-supposedly at the heart of a move, this house seemed frozen, frigid. Sansa pulled out a chair and sat down, ruminating these thoughts. Then she noticed it. At first she believed she had dream and inspected, a little skeptical, the tapestry. It was a normal wallpaper, line a little dated, but in keeping with the old parquet dark wood. _A handle on the wall_. A thin line of about a set separating the floor of the tapestry, and if we focusing much we could glimpse the frame of a door. Without even thinking, she got up, grabbed the door handle and opened it. She took time to accommodate to the brightness of the room, but what she found there made her confused. This room had nothing to do with the rest of the house. It was a small room, decorated finely. An office lined envelope and books in front of it, surrounded by libraries. Everything seemed in place, arranged, although a few boxes on the floor reflected the move in progress. Sansa approached the desk and inspected its contents; invoices, account statements, reports. In the drawer, however, Sansa discovered two cards. The first was a wedding invitation, printed and crumpled. The second was a more austere invitation, handwritten, concluding with a crossed-out name

_"You are officially invited to the wedding ceremony of Lysa Tully and ..."_  
  


Sansa abruptly stopped reading, shocked to read the name of his aunt on the map. She had never heard of this before marriage, let alone the man. Does it mean that she was in the house of a person in connection with his aunt? " _Or maybe even your aunt._ " whispered a voice in his head. She felt her heart warm to the idea of seeing her aunt. But something was not clear. No, it could not work, how her aunt would have known? The mouth of the girl opened, and a strangled sound in out, much more shocked by what she had just read on another card. It was written in different ways, but the end result was and would always remain the same.

_"We regret to announce_   
  
_the death of Lysa Tully and his son Robert Arryn._   
  
_The ceremony will be attended by... "_

 

Stunned, she did not even have the strength or the courage to continue the card. " _I'm the last Stark_ " Sansa thought. " _No, it remainsArya ..Arya is always ..._ " but Sansa silenced the thought, she was not even sure if her sister was still alive or not, and the loneliness she felt was the only thing real. She was surprised not to cry, maybe not she had the strength. She had never really known her aunt, but add her name to the list of Stark death was amplified Sansa's distress. Her cousin also had died. And all of it seemed so unreal.

                Sansa reread the cards, dropping on the office chair. She had returned to zero. She was left with only one index. She read the name crossed out on the obituary, and connected it with the wedding invitation. There were even a few days interval between the two cards, marriage and death. Could she really consider this man as his uncle? " _Probably not, he does not even know me. But .. He is the one who wrote this card._ " thought the girl. She opened her mouth, and said his name. Like saying it out loud made it more real.  
                – Petyr Baelish, murmured the young girl examining his writing. _Petyr Baelish_ , she repeated, slightly louder, closing her eyes.  
                – I do not _particularly_ like that people dig in _my_ business, sneered a voice behind her.

  
Sansa was startled and opened his eyes suddenly, brutally putting both cards on the desk, and turned around. In the doorway stood a man in a suit. He looked at her, smirking. She met his gaze, and she felt her heart turn to stone. There was no kindness, no heat in that look. She looked at him, frozen, mouth open and her own eyes wide open. His eyes were green, but green she had never seen before. " _His look has nothing to do with Joffrey's_ " thought the girl. It was so dull that it was closer to gray, and piercing as would the lightning. A green flash. The man cleared his throat, and pointing a whim, raised an eyebrow.  
                – I do not like especially to repeat myself. If you could _possibly_ get out of my office, I would be very pleased.

   
She immediately got up from the chair, not wanting to provoke the wrath of her host. There was something in his voice, a warning. She could read in his eyes also that even if he was smiling, he was upset. Very upset. She stood straight, not knowing where to go. He stood in the doorway, blocking her way. Sansa cursed herself to be frail and timid, trembling at every obstacle, but she also knew she was not necessarily safe with this man. She looked at him, hoping he understood her silent request because she could not utter a word, transcended by fear. There was a special atmosphere that emanated from him, and she wondered how long he has been watching. She had not heard him coming, had he looked rummage through his desk? _At least he was in the house from the beginning?_ He smiled again, a smile that did not reach his eyes, he turned and left the room. Everything in his attitude intimated to Sansa to follow him, his gestures, his look. " _This man is danger_ ous" thought Sansa. She left the room, casting a last glance at the office where the two cards were.

   
                When she closed the door, she turned, looking around him. She put a hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat slow down gradually. She needed to answer, need to hear from his mouth. She felt uncomfortable, a bad feeling beginning to sprout in her heart. He was sitting at the table, legs crossed, and waved her gaze to come and sit beside him. " _We have to talk_ ", he told her silently. She sat opposite him, and he laid his hands on the table. He wore cufflinks. _Mocking jays_?  
                – You are Petyr Baelish, she concluded, surprised at the stability of her own voice.  
                – Yes, he replied simply, relying a little on the back of his chair.  
                – My uncle ? She added skeptically.  
                – You consider me as such? he asked, his eyes never leaving her.  
                – No, she answered as simply he does.

   
She heard footsteps, and a man entered the room. " _Is this a bodyguard?_ " Sansa wondered. Dressed in black, he had a package in his hands and laid it on the table. He ignored her presence and turned to Petyr Baelish, apparently waiting for something. Petyr waved his hand, and after a brief hello, the man moved down the hall, keeping watching them. Petyr rose from his chair, preparing to leave the room, and pointed the bag on the table.  
                – Put these clothes, he ordered, you can't go out _like that_ in the street.  
                – And where are you taking me anyway? She said, rising from her chair, regretting terribly in her brusqueness when he frozes, turned and stabbed her with his gazes.  
                – It does not concern you, he cut there, which completed the upset Sansa.  
                – And if I refuse? she insisted, and the man's eyes hardened as he looked at her from head to foot. _And if I refuse, what will you do?_ she began, a bit less secure for herself and disturbed by his look  
                – Lothor, he called, and his man came into the room. This girl refuses to change, if she resists force her to, he ordered without leaving Sansa eyes, menacingly. And if she continues, then attach her ... and we will not take the trouble to change her.  
                – You work for _them_ , huh? tell the girl, while the thug approached her and that Petyr was going. You work for _them_ , she repeated, her voice cracking, and you'll deliver me to _them_.

   
She looked at the package on the table and at Petyr's back. He was not kind, he was nothing lovable. No, this man wasn't her uncle. This man was not even her friend. Yet when he turned, something in his eyes had changed. It seemed softer, less electric.  
                – Don't do anything reckless, _sweetling_ , he advised her very seriously. No, I do not intend to deliver you to _them_ , he added slightly contemptuous, or at least _not now_. I have nothing to gain. And if you have any idea crosses your mind, _no matter which_ , he tells with a piercing gaze, remember that on your own you would have no chance to survive, _no one_.

   
                The conversation was clause. He left the room, ordering his henchman to prepare the car and leaving her alone in the dining room. She looked at the package on the table and opened it, it was a white dress like those she wore last night. Images came back to her mind and she had to take to the table while the ground beneath her feet shook. Once calmed down, she took off her shirt, and remembered the look that the man had given her. Was it his shirt? Was it him who had brought in the woods? " _No, it couldn't be him._ " whispered the little voice in his head. No, Petyr Baelish was rather the kind of man who doesn't get his hands dirty, ordering others to do things for him. Petyr Baelish wouldn't had land on his shirt. Never such a man would have cared, washed and lying her like a pet _. It was just not his style_.

                 Once dressed, she folded the shirt and pushed it into the bag, hoping one day she finds its owner, whoever he is. She wanted to say thank you, even if she was aware of the ridiculousness of the thing; the person who had attended her had only following orders. Yet it was the only act of kindness she had received since two days, and she was grateful. But she knew she would probably never see him. She would ask the bodyguard, just in case if it was him who had attended her, but she would not stay long enough to find his nurse if it wasn't him. She was about to escape, she had to escape. She did not trust that Petyr Baelish, let alone smile. He worked for them, it was obvious.  
  


_"_ _I'll show him something reckless._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! That was my second chapter. It took some time to write I'm sorry, I still have a little trouble to manage dialogues, especially with the way how Petyr should speak ^^ '
> 
> What do you think of this Petyr?  
> I hope you will not be too disappointed, the story has advanced little, but I found that this was a very important chapter even though it was quite hard to write. Our small Sansa do not much like this poor Petyr for now, but it will work out in the future (normally hehehe): D


	3. Sweet hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here, I see life, from across a cloud,  
> Disappearing for me into the shadow of the past;  
> Love alone has remained and like a great picture,  
> Survives alone at the awakening from a vanishing dream.

* * *

  
                - You don't .. come with us? Sansa asked, surprised.  
                - I have some things to do, he replied, getting into another car, smiling.  
  
Before she could formulate another question, he had already closed the door, making a small wave to Lothor. The bodyguard nodded, and turned to Sansa, opening the door of their car. It was a classic black model with tinted windows while the Petyr's car had more the look of a sports coupe. " _The kind of car would have liked Robb em >" Sansa thought sadly. She took one last look in the direction of Petyr before he starts, and she discovered on his face an expression she did not know yet. She could almost see the interest in his eyes, she could see worry. But she was not naive, and when they started, she put it all on account of her imagination. P>_

                It was about three hours they had started, and Sansa was questioning herself about the true intentions of Petyr Baelish. She had noticed she was now far from Winterfell, specifically on the way to the capital. He could had deliver her directly to those for whom he worked, he could also not the treatment. But perhaps had he not organize her rescues and that was all a ploy of those who had killed his parents. _Lannister._ It was the name that had pronounced the man in the forest. The name of the main political opponent of his father _, _Tywin _Lannister .___ One thing was certain to her, she would not stay long enough to know whether or not she was going to be sacrificed for the sake of a bastard's political glory . Lost in her thoughts, she remembered the question she wanted to ask the guard.  
                - Lothor .. That's Lothor right? She asked hesitantly, the man unresponsive.  
                - Lothor, she continued, was it your shirt that I wore p>?

                He did not answer, turning the radio. However she saw in his eyes and in his countenance air he wanted to tell her " _Of course not, you were not wearing my shirt! "_ She sighed, realizing he had been without doubt instructed to not answer any questions. She looked out the window and casually listened to the radio. But what she heard froze her heart, and she closed her eyes, resting her head against the window, a strangled noise escaping from her throat. Lothor looked at her, preparing to turn off the radio, but she suddenly shouted " No em>", asking him to leave the radio on. She needed to know.

> " _The former presidential candidate, Ned Stark, is now wanted by the police and is suspected of homicide. An investigation had been opened into his campaign and the candidate already suspected of tax fraud is now wanted for murder. Three dead bodies were found in his residence located in the forests of Winterfell, and those of his two youngest children Rickon and Brandon, there is barely a week. He and his family were sought throughout the country, and controls were placed at borders to try to catch up with him, his wife and four other children. Catelyne Stark was found yesterday, but today an under protection witnesses had reported that the eldest daughter Sansa Stark, may be behind the murder of his two younger brothers, and that this act would have been long premeditated. Tywin Lannister, candidate for presidential favorites has not commented on this and sincerely regret that such a man had passed the primaries, and promised that police will do everything in its power to catch the fugitives and apply justice. Exclusively, the NTC 2 could provide testimony Joffrey Baratheon, companion of the suspect Sansa Stark, and also son of the late Robert Baratheon, former president. We will now listen._  
>  \- Sansa would have never done that, she never would have hurt her family, she is so nice, em > the boy pleaded, his voice trembling _. If you hear me, Sansa, go, you do not have to pay for your father's crimes! .. I know you're not guilty, you have to tell them! You can be helped, I beg you to call me! I can assure you she would never have ... em > continued the boy, before the interview ends. _
> 
> _So despite the track of a homicide, police still do not want to comment on the potential culpability of the girl. The testimony of her companion, and different people around her tend to prove her innocence, although the testimonies accusing of murdering her two young brothers be considered for now as a valuable part of the investigation. It was for the paper this ... "_

Livid, Sansa had stopped breathing since she had realized that Tywin had lied to the authorities, they invented everything, and the whole world was thinking her father to be a murderer when he actually was murdered in cold blood. And worse, she was accused of killing her brothers. A mad anger rising in her, and tears came to her eyes. She had had enough of this injustice, all that. Joffrey's voice echoed in her mind and she calmed down. He was always there. They knew each other since childhood and dreamed only of one thing, to get married. Live together. Joffrey would be there. How could she even forget him one day of her life? How could she forget the him em>? She was not alone. And he believed in her, and he was right. Now he was studying in the capital, he could hide she, or else .. She had to tell the truth, say what had happened to her father, the police. Sansa wondered where was her phone, and remembered that she had took nothing when leaving her house, but she remembered the number of Joffrey .. She would just call him and he would help her. He would be, he would come to get her, she knew. She looked Lothor and she knew that once she arrived at destination it would remands no way to escape. She felt it. Then she thought of a way to escape, and saw the phone keeps in his pocket. She decided.

                She moved to the center position, pretending to reach for the radio off. She brushed Luthor from the bust between the two front seats, apologizing, and turned off the radio. She made her way back, taking advantage to steal his phone. When she was younger, she used to steal the phones of her brothers and sisters to call Joffrey, so she had learned his number by heart. Luthor seemed to have some compassion for her, but she felt no remorse. He worked for Petyr Baelish, after all, it was a bit of his fault too. She returned to her seat and opened the phone on her thigh. It was an old phone, not a smartphone, those who slides. She inhaled, and phones Joffrey. Realizing that it would make noises, she put it quickly in silent, always hiding it under her right leg, and against the door. It rang once, twice, and then the telephone countdown appeared on the screen. Sansa found herself beast, finally not knowing what to do or how to contact him without being discovered. Then she had an idea.  
                - Say .. We head to the capital, right? Sansa timidly asked the driver, who did not answer her. I noticed that we were spending nearly Antlers there is little time, it's been almost three hours we drive now .. If we could stop, I need .. I don't feel very well.  
                - No stop, the driver said. These are the orders, he said for the first time.  
                - I really need to go to the bathroom, she begged, I know we're only twenty kilometers from the capital, but I can not help myself. .. I need a break, she breathed, and there is a gas station not far from here.

                Lothor looked in the rearview mirror for a moment, and she felt fear grow in her. She hoped he would not notice the absence of his phone .. No, he would not notice it. She looked at the screen, and she was relieved to see that the appeal was still pending. She bent spine, and putting her head in her lap whispered towards the phone " _Help me. "_ then cut the communication.  
                - What are you mumbling, little one? Lothor demand, always watching.  
                - I said, _help me,_ please, and she looked at him with such an innocent, true look, he sighed. __  
\- Okay, we'll stop at the next station. _ _And no, it wasn't my shirt,__ he added with a hint of amusement.  


                It was weird seeing this man smiling, Sansa began to feel bad a little. He really help her, now, despite orders. If she would only recoil escaped him, who knows what kind of punishment he might receive. However, it was him or her. And that, she knew it very well. She received a message from Joffrey, " _I'll be there in 5 minutes." he said._ She turned off the phone, and she put it in the pocket of the bodyguard discreetly whispering a " _ _thank you__ in his ear. He first looked surprised, grunting a " _ _ _If ever it happen you misfortune, Littlefinger would kill me.___ She wondered who was that Littlefinger, perhaps the one who saved her. But they arrived to the service station, and Lothor went to park the car. He looked at the time, then turned making her understand that he would open the door for her.

                When put one foot out of the car, a feeling of freedom seized Sansa. She would soon be free, and with Joffrey. There happen to come save her, she knew. he would be here any minute to the next. The image of Petyr Baelish appeared to her head, and she faded it away, wishing to forget this bad encounter. She will tells all to the police, and he and his bosses would pay for their crimes. She turned to Lothor, walking to the restaurant, and decided she would tell investigators that he had helped her. He had saved her. A car noise caught her attention, she turned quickly, noticing in the corner of her eye a red car also guarantee the car park. She recognized the one who drove it and immediately her heart stopped, when he smiled. 

" _He's here."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's my last chapter! I have continued a little later, but I decided to cut my chapter into two parts to give you the one I had already finished. Happy reading, make me your predictions and what you think! :)  
>  And I'm sorry, there is relatively little Petyr x Sansa yet .. But it happens slowly but surely. promised ♥


	4. Dark disillusionment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your days, which are somber and short like autumnal days,  
> Grow shorter like a shadow that bends on the hillsides.  
> Friendship betrays you and pity abandons you,  
> And you alone go down the path of the grave.

                Joffrey stopped his car and opened the door. Lothor had noticed nothing and continued to bring Sansa inside the gas station. But she kept looking Joffrey. He was a young pretty tall boy, blond, with green eyes. _The most beautiful eyes in the world ,_ thought Sansa, but in her mind appearing those of Petyr Baelish. She bit her cheek, wiping again this man from her thoughts. She was surprised to think of this man's eyes when all she wanted above all was to forgot him. Was him to left very far from her. However, something kept resurface it constantly in her mind, and she did not understand what and why.  _Fear, surely_ , she thought. After all, he was a dangerous man, and now he was going to be mostly _an angry man._

                Joffrey walked behind them now, and she could feel his comforting presence. After a moment, she felt that he had stopped walking. They were on the doorstep of the resort, and Sansa stopped too. Lothor shot her a questioning look, she turned around. Lothor also returned, this time worried. Smiling at Sansa, Joffrey looked away from her and began to move forward, right on Lothor. He looked up guard down.  
                —Who do you work for ? asked the boy, contemptuously.  
                —And you, who do you work for? Lothor answered, running his hand down his back.  
                —Not for your boss, whoever he is, confessed Joffrey, with a growing wild smile.

  
Before Lothor could react, Joffrey had already pulled out a Taser, the electric pulse striking the guard in the chest full. He had the strength to get out his gun, but his legs gave way and he fell to the ground, immobilized. Sansa, shocked, trying to understand what exactly was going on, she had never seen Joffrey so violent before. Lothor stared Sansa, trying to formulate a sentence, but Joffrey dealt him a kick in the head, ending the man. He stooped, smiling at the motionless body of the man, and took his gun from his hand. He got up and grabbed Sansa's hand and with a " _Quick, we have to go "_ led her to his car. Once there, he pushed her into the passenger seat and drove quickly. By far, Sansa could see Lothor roll on his back and try to grab her phone. " _I should've never let it to him, I really am an idiot_ " Sansa thought. And while she was thinking this, the image of man withdrew more and more, and she felt liberated, free at last. She looked Joffrey, with a little shy smile, placing her hand on Joffrey's holding the gear lever. She felt some thing poking down her neck, and raised her hand to stroke the painful area, this would be a likely insect. Joffrey turned his head, threw a little warm look, and smiled from the corner of the mouth.  
                — Rest, princess, said the young man. You're safe with me, rest.  
                — I'm not.. began the girl, but she realized her condition .

She was really tired, but had not been before. It was true that she had some strenuous experiences, but not to the point of being so tired. She wondered if at one time or another Petyr Baelish could have drugs her, but she refuted this hypothesis, it had to be the aftermath of last night, she was sure. Moreover, the smile of Joffrey comforted her and urged her to let go. She relaxed and breathed more slowly, leaving the rest to win. They went inside a tunnel and orange lights wrapped her. They revolved around her, while she sank deeper and deeper into the unconscious. She felt the hand of Joffrey position above hers, caressing it gently, slipping his slender fingers along hers. Gradually, however, the touch was made less sweet, less and less smooth, and she felt slightly Joffrey sink his nails into her skin. She tried to open her eyes, looking at him, but all she could see was the mirror, and the image it reflects. Through her blurred vision, she saw a person in the back of the car, that she hadn't even noticed. And that person looked at her, smiling. A woman. The smile grew a little more, and before the eyes of Sansa does close, she had time to see the woman brandished a syringe, victorious. She felt the hand of Joffrey leave her, and she fell asleep, too tired to understand anything.

> _Sansa felt hands on her skin, and all her body aching from apart. She had the sensation of being broken. She opened her eyes and saw nothing around her, just emptiness. But she could feel, and felt someone place her gently on a bed. She felt that slowly, someone removed her dress, and a voice whispered sweet nothings in her ear, words of reassurance, while a glossy cloth touched her skin. She exhaled, shivering in the cool sensation mingled now in her pain. The person sighed and stopped to clean, gently sliding his finger on the wounds of the girl, and up along her neck, stroking her cheeks. She felt the presence leave, then heard the sound of water. What she saw was then an ocean, a blue light, while the feeling of being scope again surpass all the others. She was carried by the waves, by the ocean. But she felt the beating of a heart, the warmth of a skin. The roar of the water approached, resonant louder, and suddenly she was engulfed. A heat radiated throughout her body, relaxing her, which made her sigh of relief. The hand came back, and this time she felt a cloud pass over her body, so soft as silk, and all the pain gone, vanished. She felt water dripping on her face, in her hair, and felt_ _herself bury in the ocean, releasing the weight she contained. She breathed and the water penetrated into her mouth, filling her. The flavor of the mint fills her, as if it could pick up the pieces of her broken body. The ocean took a red tint, as if her blood had stained but was soon swept away by the waves. A new color replaced the red, green. A gray green, metallic, shining in the sun. Then the wet sensation disappeared, and the ocean brought her back on the beach, dripping. She inhaled, exhaled, trying to catch her breath, as if she could not breathe once out of the water. She felt the warm sun. She was surrounded now by a mint smell, and the smell enveloped her, warming up her body. She sank into the sand, and it adapted to her weight, surrounding her. She inhaled deeply, rocked by all these new sensations, but wanting to taste new mint, wanting to regain that feeling of fullness that she had had in the sea. She reached for the sun, the light, and saw nothing even when opening her eyes, only the green color and reflection of the ocean surrounding her. But she knew. Above her stood the ocean, replacing the sky. She could now touch it with her fingertips. She patted her hand, then stood up, wanting to feel again this state of fullness. Suddenly, she buried her head under the water, and mint flavor radiated her mouth, her lips. The filling, the filling. Sweet, cold but hot. Wearing soon as she had touched, the ocean left. The reflection disappeared, and the waves went away from her, leaving her alone on the long shore. And the green light suddenly seemed distant, as if she was not allowed to touch it. And she knew she would never have tried to return to the ocean. If she had not done it perhaps it would have remained. But now it was gone, leaving her alone and broken._

Sansa suddenly awoke when she felt a cold sensation on her skin. The heat had disappeared, and the remains of her dream flew away when the pain radiated her body, yet again. She blinked, surrounded by darkness, and felt that her hands were tied and her mouth gagged. She tried to scream, but it only made her breathing even more difficult. Fear radiated her whole being, and she struggled again and again. Then she calmed down, slowly. She moved her wrists and felt they were handcuffed, and she finds she was laying on the floor. Again a cold sensation returned and she identified it; cold water. Iced water. She cried in her gag to this new attack, unable to control the reaction of her body. She curled up, trying to keep her calm. To think, but it was too painful. She felt someone stoop, and caress her arms, her shoulders, her cheek, but this touch disgusted her, she wanted to scream. Then the hand removed the gag and handcuffs, and the person stood up.  
                — Meet me in the living room, my sweet, ordered him a familiar voice, I do not like waiting .

She heard the person lead out of the room, and she tried to compose herself. Out of the dream she had just done. There was no relationship between her dream and her current situation, and she knew it deeply, she felt it. And she knew it was not just a dream. " _I dreamed of the person who took care of me last night "_ painfully Sansa thought, regretting that person at that moment. Regretting that heat. But she also knew that a dream was a dream, and that it was often far from reality. At that moment, this person would not be there. This person had only obeyed orders. Yet she regretted his heat. She regretted any short heat. She tried to remember how she got here, lying on the ground, trembling. To put a name to the voice she had heard, and her heart missed a beat. _Joffrey_ . It was Joffrey who had detached her. Suddenly hope returned. He had saved her. Remember slowly what had happened before, she walked slowly to the door and opened it. Joffrey sat on a couch in what she knew was his apartment. She had seen a picture before. But something was wrong _ _. " _How can it save me from her own apartment?"___ Sansa wondered, immediately regretting for having asked the question. Because she knew the answer, although she does not want to accept it. And she remembered the smile of the woman, Joffrey's nails. She felt nothing more. Her heart simply just lost what was left of her humanity . And she wanted to feel sorry for it , after all. Nothing will more astonish her today , let alone her boyfriend treats her like a criminal when all the world suspected her of being one.  
                – Come here, Sansa, Joffrey ordered her, smiling, and she obeyed. Did you missed me, my sweet? he asked, still smiling, and it froze her heart.  
                – Yes, I missed you, she lied. This morning, it was perhaps true, but now she was afraid.  
  
                He got up, ran a hand behind her neck and pulled his face to hers before stealing a kiss. A cold kiss. There was nothing left from the friendly young man he was before. He had nothing in common with Joffrey Baratheon. He kissed her even more brutally, and she was hurt, but said nothing. Waiting for it to end. He looked into her eyes, breaking the kiss and grabbed her chin with his fingertips, hard enough that it could not move. Then stroked her hair, a small smile on his lips.  
                – It's really a shame, you know, I had so much fun with you, he confessed, even if I've never loved you, he added with a smile.

                He approached his lips again to her face and whispered in her ear " _But that does not mean we can not have fun, right?"_ She shuddered with horror, tried to leave but the hand that stroked the hair gripped the now, forcing her to sit still and bruising Sansa. He smiled viciously, and looked her body. She was still wet, her dress sticking to her body. She had been in a relationship with him, it was true. They had knew a long time, it's not like she was innocent, but they never really .. _" _My grandfather would not be happy if I was hurting, but I will not hurt you, not too much."__ he whispered back into her ear. If he had been Joffrey, she would have given her to him, she would have smiled. But it was not Joffrey, he was a monster. So she tried again to leave, but he planned her on the couch, cutting off her breath.  
                – You think you know me, Sansa? Joffrey asked, chuckling, but are you sure? You say you love me but you don't even know who my grandfather is. You did not know, don't you? he whispered softly.  
  
She struggled, tried to hit him, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her. She was vulnerable and weak. And he was above her, the dominant. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, and she did not understand. She did not understand how he could have as much change. She loved him. " _But I love you "_ she had wanted to tell him. And as he began to touch her, she bit her cheek so hard that she could feel the taste of blood spread into her mouth _. " _I am Joffrey Lannister, grandson of Tywin Lannister "__ he whispered in her ear, and she understood. She realized she had been manipulated from the start, for years. After a long silence, she laughed, a desperate laugh. Joffrey stopped touching her, and he looked surprised, almost scared. _ _" _Stop laughing "___ he commanded he4, but she only laughed more like a demented. Because she knew she would never have peace. He slapped her, and the taste of blood flooded Sansa. He was still holding her hands, and she closed her eyes. Preparing to suffer again. And this time no one would come to save her. She felt the hands of Joffrey undress her, touch her. She heard him laugh, blow loudly. She felt his tense body crushing hers. She could hear the beating of his heart. He loved it, hurt her. And then she heard the trigger of a gun. And saw a shadow in the back of Joffrey. The boy also realized, and he turned abruptly, preparing to defend himself, but he had no time.  
                – Littlefinger is the name of my boss, kid, said Lothor .

The blast resounded through the room and the body fell to the ground. Sansa felt the blood on her face again, and she looked up to Lothor, in tears. She could not articulate. All this time she had tried to keep calm, but she came over and suddenly everything had just released. She wanted to apologize, she wanted to thank him. But she heard a groan. Joffrey was not dead, Lothor had shot in his leg, and he swore, unable to get up. Then, Sansa saw _him ,_ enter the room and watch _her_  . He did not look happy. His hair were disheveled, his eyes mad, and his tie almost snatched. He took off his jacket, in the the doorstep, and rolling up his sleeves. She then realized that he also had a gun. The look he gave her froze up her blood. Then he walked toward Joffrey, slowly. He looked almost consecutively the young naked girl, in tears and wet, then the body of the boy lying on the floor. He gave a kick to the body of Joffrey, returning him on his back.

                – It's for what you did to my henchman began Petyr, crushing his foot to the place where Lothor fired, and Joffrey screamed in pain. And that .. Petyr went on, that's for what you did to her.

Petyr stooped, hitting the young man on the temple, still applying pressure to Joffrey's hurted legs, who continued to moan. Joffrey looked at him with a crazy and hatred look.  
                – When my grandfather will know what you.. you... did, Joffrey came to articulate, you will pay Littlefinger.

                – And this is for what you did to Catelyne simply said Petyr, rising, and looking at the young man's eyes. Then pretending to have forgotten to say something important, he smiled at the young man.

" _By the way, my name is Petyr ."_

He did not smile, but was not upset so far either, he seemed to enjoy the moment. And then he shot. Without looking, without a shadow of remorse. He shot. Joffrey was dead, and Sansa looked at the man who had once been her boyfriend, and at the man who had killed him. Baelish seemed a little sad, not satisfied. He observed a moment the corpse of the young man, and the blood stain the carpet, then gave him a last kick before turning to her. He looked at her, and it seemed to Sansa that she recognizes disappointment in his eyes.  
                – And this is how you repay me, he muttered between his teeth, pointing to the corpse of the young man. Lothor, he said, bring her to point B, I've changed my mind.

                He approached her, lowering himself and grabbed her chin, much more kindly than Joffrey had done. He put his lips to her ear, and she felt the familiar smell of mint emerge from him. And she understood she was wrong about him, from the beginning. " _Thank you for your consideration. " he muttered, before turning and leaving the room, leaving her alone with Lothor, and the corpse of Joffrey. Sansa felt her heart sink._

_"I just lost my only ally."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the chapter, as promised!
> 
> I hope that history does not disappoints you .. If you have desires, or that a particular thing happens between Petyr and Sansa , tell me , I will do my best to integrate it into history !  
> (You want them to play golf , dancing together , fight, I do not know, but I'm here to please you !)


	5. A painful loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Rest well, my soul, in this final refuge,  
> Like an overly hopeful traveller,  
> Sits down before going in to the doors of the city,  
> And takes in the fragrant air of the evening for a moment."

                It had been two weeks since Sansa was here, and she had not seen him since. She felt she had made a serious mistake, and although at first her fear was much stronger than today, it did not mean it was gone. She was still afraid. She was afraid because now she was alone, and because she gradually got used to it, she accepted that. Every night she did the same dreams. Every night she saw the red ocean, sunlight go out and the smell of blood choke in her sleep. Every night she saw the carousels and the shadows of her brothers turn around. She sometimes tried to catch them, but they melted into the darkness, and then she fell. There was no finality to this fall, just the fall, only the suffering and the feeling that it would never stop. Then she saw him, the boy she loved. He kissed her gently, stroking her hair, then tooked her by the hand and took her into the woods. Her life passed before her eyes, bright, and if she could cry she would have, dazzled by the beauty of her past, by the smile of Joffrey, of her father, her brothers, her mother. She would have cried, yes, but she couldn't anymore. Then everytime she woke up suffocating, the heart crushed by the turn of her dreams. For her there is no paradise on earth, no heaven for her, even in her sleep, there is only hell. Only the eternal suffering. Everything was burning, everything was escaping into the air as a red dust. A large fire was raging in her heart, and she could almost feel the taste of ashes in her mouth.

 

                Occasionally, however, a dream came back. Always the same dream, and so real in a sense she often wondered if everything in this dream was real. She found herself again immersed in a green ocean, surrounded by light and bathed in that particular smell of mint. His smell, she knew now. Although everything is blurry, Sansa knew that this man had treated, cleaned, coated, protected her. And he was not there. For two weeks, she had not seen him even once. " _Thank you for your consideration._ " that sentence sounded in her head, becoming increasingly painful with time. Not that she cared for him, but it was painful because she had made an error of judgment. Because she was a real idiot, a fool. And now she was alone. And part of her wanted to recover this heat, this attention she received in that dream. Part of her wanted this man to come back, the one of her nights, the one who brought, who whispered in her ear while she was unconscious. A part of her still believed in paradise. But another part of her still remembered the look of Petyr Baelish when he entered Joffrey's apartment, his gaze when he pronounced the name of her mother. _He knew her_. A part of her remembered the face of Petyr Baelish when Joffrey was dead, his disappointment. _He wanted to see him suffer_. A part of her very well remembered the back of Petyr Baelish when he left the room, leaving her. _He had not even returned_. A part of her very well remembered Petyr Baelish, and he was not the same person as the man of her dreams. Yet of this, Sansa was certain, and she had known it when he had caught her chin and whispered in her ear. Because his touch was the same as in her dreams, because the smell was the same, because his voice was the same of the one who whispered every night in her dreams, in her ear.

 

                After the incident with Joffrey, she was really afraid that he gives her to the Lannister, accusing her of the murder of Joffrey. But it was the little voice inside of herself that whispered to her this idea,the small voice that she was not listening anymore. Voice that had led her down the wrong path. Lothor made sure she had new clothes, and they had left the apartment, leaving behind Joffrey's body. Then, they drove for an hour, and he parked in front of a building that Sansa identified fairly quickly; a brothel. Lothor had not spoken to her in all the way, and she obviously understood why. She had lost his confidence, or the fragile bond that was built between them. However, he explained her that she would lodge in an apartment above the establishment, not in the establishment itself. He had noticed her worried look, and probably wanted to avoid all questions. Two weeks later, she was still there, Lothor watching her carefully, turning in round, in the large apartment overlooking the red light district of Kings Landing. She was not allowed to go out, and at night she could hear the music get lost in the noise of the city. The first week she had tried to speak with Lothor, but he was as silent as a tomb, then she visited the apartment. She had looked every room, touched every piece of furniture, and now she knew it by heart. It was a big apartment, quite old and dusty. There was a large kitchen open to a living room which was also dining room, and there were two bedrooms; hers and another that was locked, Sansa identified it as Petyr Baelish's. The bathroom was shared, but even from the inside, the door to Petyr Baelish's room was locked. Lothor slept in the lounge on the sofa supposed Sansa, although she had ever seen him asleep.

 

                The second week she had tried several times to get out but every time Lothor had prevented her, saying nothing, but giving her disapproving looks. She then spent her time watching television and series, staring vacuously. The police still continued to search in vain her father, and her also. Accused of murdering her brothers and suspected of murdering her boyfriend. Two weeks. Two weeks after the death of her parents, and two weeks that her body didn't leave her in peace. Two weeks she turned round. She thought of all this, watching TV, watching her wrist. It ached and swelled with time, but something in her refused to tell Lothor about it. The pain appeared after leaving Joffrey's apartment, once the adrenaline down. She had not even noticed any shock, but she concluded that she had it when she attempted to defend herself, or when Joffrey had thrown her on the couch. Or maybe before. She had no idea how she was transported from Joffrey's car to his apartment or even what they had done to her in her sleep. She had tried to heal a bit, but the physical pain had something comforting, it made her forget her inner pains, from time to time.

 

                Sansa got up from the couch, slowly, and looked Lothor who stood in the corner of the room, writing on his phone. She decided to do something different that spend her days molding on a sofa, she had more than enough moping alone in this dusty and lifeless flat. Some things in her heart thought that it might become her house, the place where she would live for years. She foresaw it, and horizon of quiet and normal life seeming impossible to her, she decided to get used a little more to this place. To make of it her own home, though she had no choice but to stay there. And this transformation would begin by visiting the neighborhood.  
                - Lothor, began Sansa a little hesitant. I need to get out, or I'll go crazy.

 

 He looked at the girl, and she knew that he always resented. After all, he had warned her that Petyr Baelish would be angry against him if anything happened to her, and yet she escaped. She had left Joffrey hit him and had left out without remorse, she was not a good person.  
                - Littlefinger was quite clear about it, began Lothor without hesitation, you are not allowed out, and if you ...  
                - I will not escape, cut Sansa, I have realized that you would not hurt me.. But I will not spend my whole life in this apartment, locked and protected from the outside world, Lothor.  
                - You doesn't .. you doesn't understand little girl, Lothor replied a little more hesitant. It's not a matter of escaping, you're wanted by the police, he continued more gently. Even if Littlefinger have power, he can't do anything directly against Tywin Lannister.  
                - I can... Sansa murmured a little disappointed, I will disguise myself, she added in a low. You .. I mean, we are in a red light district, I can melt into the scenery.. right? She finished, looking up to Lothor.

  
                Lothor looked a little bit surprised and skeptical. He pointed her with hoschin, and she knew he was pointing her hair; red hair. She sighed and returned him his gaze, it was not as if she cared for her hair, or their color. She no longer wanted to see this color, and several times she had felt the need to cut them, to shave her heads. Lothor looked to her like he was watching a child who promised not to do anything stupid. It was not cold, it was a warm look, and his eyes were laughing. She then realized that Lothor was a in good mood, he was answering her questions, and he could probably answer to more of them. He had read in her mind, because she saw a little regret in his eyes. Then he sighed.  
                - At the point where we're at, growled Lothor. Go on, tell me, what do you wanna know? he asked, his tone making it clear that he would not answer to absolutely all her questions.  
                - Why did Petyr Baelish knew my mother? Sansa asked quickly, as if the question was burning her tongue.  
                - I don't know, honestly replied Lothor, looking at the phone in his hands.  
                - I see.. Sansa sighed a little bit disappointed. I know that he married my aunt .. But I never heard of it. Neither by Aunt Lysa, nor by my mother. And I..  
                - Littlefinger is a secretive man, little girl, cut Lothor while he was ranking his phone. You'll not know anything about him by asking him questions, even if you think he has answered your questions.  
                - What do you mean by saying _even if I think he has answered_? Sansa replied, slightly annoyed, I can tell when a man's lying, I'm not a..

 

She did not finish her sentence. Of course she was an idiot, who was wrong about _him_ , which did not recognize an ally in Petyr Baelish. If she did'nt even recognize a good man when she saw one, and  had been thought for years that Joffrey loved her, she certainly wasn't able to recognize a lie. Lothor approached her and brought her on the couch. She hid her wrist in her sleeve, not wishing him to see it. He might stop talking. Lothor sat down beside her and looked right into her eyes, very seriously.  
                - It's not a question of recognizing a lie, little, added Lothor who seemed to read her thoughts. There are men who have spent their whole lives lying, who had built empire from nothing, from .. illusions. Littlefinger is that kind of man, there isn't even a question of truth or lies with him, he is beyond all that.  
                - How .. How can you trust him, then? Sansa asked, perplexed, realizing she wasn't totally wrong about Petyr Baelish.  
                - But I don't trust him, replied Lothor amused, it's not my job, little girl. He's not the kind of people who can instil confidence, and this is not the kind of relationship we can have with him. He's a good boss, I worked with him for a long time and that's enough for people like me. But perhaps not for little girls like you, he added a little less smiling.

 

Sansa thought a moment, and her desire to learn more about Petyr Baelish grew increasingly. She wanted to ask Lothor, ask him how to learn more about Petyr, if he did not answer her questions. Ask him what she was supposed to do. She rose and walked to the window, watching the street. And she wondered again what she was doing here. She must have spoken the question aloud, because Lothor turned in her direction.  
                - Littlefinger holds the whole neighborhood, that's why you're here, simply replied Lothor.  
                - All .. the neighborhood? Sansa choked, turning quickly toward him. You.. You mean all these institutions belong to him? She asked, pointing to the red light district.  
                - He's a man of power, little girl, replied Lothor. I think he owns most of this street brothels, although they are not managed by him directly, but by partners. It would be bad for business if customers knew that no matter where they go, money came back to the same person, answered Lothor when he saw questioningly Sansa's face.  
                - And the establishment below.. us? It is also up to him? asked Sansa  
                - It's the only one he manages officially, to be honest, but it's also the most successful.. The apartment was part of it before, but he has arrange all the second floor before your arrival.  
                - And so.. The ground floor and the others floors are..? Sansa asked with hesitation.  
                - Included in the house, replied yes Lothor rising.  
                - So that's his job, she asked incredulously, he's a brothe..?  
                - Hell no, Lothor replied, laughing, that's just a small business side. But that's another reason not to let you out, he teased.  
                - And did I have the right to.. to visit the others floors? Sansa asked, expecting another refusal. She was entitled to a surprised look of Lothor, then a little tired smile.  
                - Officially, you don't have the right to go outside, but he gave no instructions regarding the establishment, Lothor added, looking at his phone. But you know.. It's not open during the day, there is nothing worth going inside, nothing more than here, he says, but he seemed to understand that it was not a question of finding something interesting.  
                - I just wanna go out of here, Sansa confessed, I can't stand this television anymore. Plus, I guess establishment's door is closed, and you have the key, right? She added, with a pleading look.

 

                Lothor opened his mouth, and she read in his eyes what he asked quietly, " _Do not remake me the car deceit, little girl_ " and she nodded. She approached him, and she felt a little lighter. Happy to could just talk with someone else. Lothor was kind. She wondered if Petyr Baelish had entrusted Lothor because of this reason, but she realized he may didn't think about it too much... However, what she had understood, it's that Lothor was one of his "closest" and faithful men. Baelish had to trust him, even if Lothor said that such a relationship did not exist in his profession.  
                - Thank you, Lothor she smiled sincerely. And then, you know, she said pretending to be offended, I'm nineteen years old, I'm not that little.

 

He smiled sincerely, and he put a hand on her head. Sansa's heart broke with that contact, because it reminded her the touch of her father. Lothor looked a little amused, then pulled out his phone, taking off the hand of her head.  
                - To me, you have more the appearance of a little dove, he added, a little mocking, and Sansa laughed for the first time since a long time. I'll send a message to Littlefinger, informing that you're going to visit the property, he explained. I don't really know what he will think about it, but I don't think that it'll poses any problem, avoid just going into his office, he said looking very seriously, he hates that people dig in his affairs.  
                - Why.. Why do you call him Littlefinger, anyway? She then asked after a long silence, eyes fixed on Lothor's phone, but with growing smile at the edges of her lips.  
                - That's how he'scalled here, Lothor confessed, looking up at her. He doesn't like to be called by his real name, from far as I know. This nickname suits him quite well, so I never really asked myself.

                Sansa examined the new information, remembering the look had given Petyr Baelish to Joffrey, but not arriving to remember his facial expression or even his face.

 

_"By the way, my name Petyr."_

                She doesn't understand, and will probably never succeed in understanding this man. " _But you can try._ " whispered a little voice in her head. " _This is your uncle after all_ " continued the little voice, and for the first time in a while she listened it, although she doesn't see him as an uncle. For now she just wanted to know why he was helping her, and why he had saved her. What he intended to do with her. But she couldn't ask him, not now. Because she might not know if he was telling the truth or not. She should first get to know him, but she must first get to contact him for this. She moved away from Lothor, heading for the front door. This time Lothor didn't stop her.  
                - The key is on the loose in your left, little dove, Lothor added, seeming satisfied with the little nickname he had given her. This made Sansa smile, to see him so childish and smiling, while a day backward he was as cold as ice.  
                - Lothor? Sansa asked, until he looked in her direction. Finally I wanted to say.. Thank you, she said, a little embarrassed. And that I'm truely sorry.

 

                He stopped smiling, and looked suddenly seriously. She turned away from him, a little disturbed by his change of behavior. She opened the door, too happy to finally get out of this apartment. Desiring to feel at home here. She then heard Lothor clear his throat, and she froze.  
                - It is me who is sorry, little dove, added Lothor in her back with a dark voice. We have not been.. able to do anything about your family.  
                - Was he angry, Lothor? she simply asked, holding the door open.  
                - He was, yes, more than I had never seen him before, said the man behind her.  
                - And when I left, was he too?  
                - Yes, he was too. And I thought he was going to kill me, little dove, Lothor laughed behind his back.  
                - Thank you, Lothor, Sansa whispered, before closing the door.

 

She leaned back on the door, bailing out her grief. _It was enough, enough for now_ , she reassured herself. That was all she needed to know. _That's enough for now_. But the heart of Sansa wanted more, and she realized it. That doesn't calm her pain, she needed to hear those words from Tywin Lannister's mouth, to hear him beg. But the voice of Lothor continued to resonate within her, and she couldn't have imagined that a simple pardon would have made such an effect. It was a form of condolence, a form of redemption, and in a sense the burial of her family. The burial of her dreams, and an apologize for this man for everything she has gone through.

_"Sorry for the solitude in which you are diving."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! It's a bit of a transition chapter, because I wanted to write a sequel but I found best to cut the chapter into two. And like that you have the first part in advance.  
>  No Petyr Baelish this time, and it's a bit quiet after a rather eventful chapter, My author's mind is bored as much as Sansa's, and is also a little bit frustrated. But a storm is coming, and my fingers tremble just by the tough of writing it. It will be very, very fun!
> 
> I added pictures to my fiction, on chapters 01 and Chapter 03 
> 
> And here's a plan of the apartment. I hope this chapter will not bored you too.


	6. Devil's Playground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jealous time, can it be that these moments of intoxication,  
> Where love long streams pays us happiness  
> Fly away from us the same speed  
> That the days of misfortune? "

                The elevator stopped on the first floor, and Sansa pulled out carefully. As it was found out of the apartment, the second floor was smaller than the others because of the door leading to the roof. The first floor was much larger than the apartment's floor. On the second floor, right in front of the apartment's door was the elevator, to the left of the elevator a staircase, and to the right a room with the door closed. _Again and again closed doors_. Sansa did not try to go on the roof, preferring to continue her visit. The first floor it was different, it was a long corridor. To the left of the elevator, it was only a succession of room as in a hotel, and right stood a little farther end of the corridor. With a door to its name, Littlefinger. His office. Sansa resisted the urge to pry into his business, but she suspected that the door should be closed anyway. The lights were off, and only the single window at the other end illuminated the long driveway. Sansa hesitated to turn on the light, and then she pressed the switch and the corridor walls found themselves bathed in violet light. The ceiling, neon traveled the traversed lengthwise, and some white spot illuminated the center and soil. The doors were made of wood, and the floor was covered with a gray carpet. Each had a number and a name. However, they were acting more as alias names, and Sansa wondered if the girls working here each had a pseudonym, as Petyr had one.

 

                The interior of the rooms was not very different from the hallway, and Sansa was surprised to find them open. They often contain a double bed, sometimes other things she could not name, and curtains covered the walls. They were bathed in purple lights, and small lamps on each side of the bed added a touch of orange red. There was a lovely atmosphere and clean. Nothing like having the dusty apartment in which she was staying, and even less to do with his room. It was like diving into another world. Leaving, Sansa noticed a camera above the door, she had not the form but Sansa was accustomed to the cameras, his father had installed in their home. It was a small white box, and the camera was in a little black ball. By far, one would confuse it with a light sensor. Prostitution was to be a dangerous business, she realized, and finally found normal the presence of these cameras, although customers are not necessarily agree with her.

 

                By leading to the elevator, Sansa  still looking door down the hall. The door to his office. Hoping something to happens, if she ever dared to open this door. That something happen, and that he arises behind her like last time, and she can finally try to understand her presence here. But she resisted and entered the elevator. Even if he was not there and would not come, she did not want to upset him more than he should already be. The elevator stopped and he opened a small reception room. When she came out of the elevator, the light came on automatically. She could see the counter, lit blue ceiling and neon-blue. The floor was marble and there was no window, the space was air conditioned and cool. She wandered a bit, looking at the office, noticing a name on the front of the counter, which was to be that of the institution. _Devil's playground_. As Lothor had said there was not much to see. But Sansa was happy to walk a little, to see new landscapes. There remained four places she had not yet visited. The room located in front of her in this very moment, Petyr's office, the locked room on the second floor and the roof. The roof had to be keyed, as were probably the two other rooms. But that door in front of her seemed to be open.  
  


                Two heavy doors, like the one found in nightclubs.. opened on a bar-like nightclubs, precisely. Lit only by blue and white lights, blue leather seats and tables were in the left side of the room. Irons bars coming out of the white wooden floor to go and hang from the ceiling. There were mirrors on the walls in gray stone imitation, sometimes, and blue geometric shapes resembling rough gemstones. A bar was in the right part of the room, it was white but the lights gave it a purple appearance. White seats were located all long before, illuminated by blue spots. At the back of the room, on the side of the bar, was another area where we could find little green cubes. Sansa saw it and walked. It was a lovely party, the walls were decorated with bright green circles, and the seats looked out on a scene. Sansa remained still for several moments, admiring. There was a cage in its rectangular and not closed on the center. The bars were decorated office, and inside was another bar, chrome. Oddly, everything had a magical aspect, both lights, decorations. Behind, the screens carried the scene in what appeared to be another dimension, sometimes changing light, sometimes projecting flashes of light, sometimes a soft warm light. She climbed on the stage, stroking the cage, and sincerely laughing. She found it strange that cage in full circles of a scene, but she remembered what kind of establishment it was. Walking on the floor of the platform, her feet remembered the special feeling of the scene when we dance, although it had been years she had stopped. She was hurt, and her father advised her to stop. She was then arrested, because no arguing with Ned Stark. She had not wanted to dance afterwards for years. She had always driven with her mother, and she still felt sadness and rage burning in her heart. She needed to be at peace with herself, and she was never there arrival as dance. She remembered the words of her teacher as she walked toward the sound at the back of the stage.

 

"Dance is a world of emotions, Sansa, and expressions.  
One way to everything, a life. It is an open self. "

[LISTEN TO ME]  


She could still feel the words of her teacher, while the music was starting. She walked to the center of the stage, slowly, remembering step she had learned, modifying them, letting her body speak. Leaving speak her rage, sadness. Lulled in her instincts, suddenly stopping to think. There was music, and only music.

 

 _Come, if you're curious to see,_  
_Pull the tricks out of my sleeve._  
_All you find is yours to keep,_  
_Brave, are you brave enough to meet,_  
_The desires That You seek._

 

She could still feel the hand of her mother, she could hear the tango rhythm in her head. But this music was not tango, the music seemed to draw into the depths. The draw into the darkness of her heart. Dancing freed all her emotions, and Sansa wept, releasing the pressure. In this cage, she should have felt trapped, but somehow it seemed to taste freedom, and brushing the bar as to mark its passage, Sansa took up her body in hand.  
 

"Dance, Sansa, is an opening to others.  
It is the connection between the body and the soul. "

 

She danced around the bar, her body drawing a circumference in the cage, never yet catch. She closed her eyes. She could imagine her mother instead of the bar, she could imagine dancing with her. She could feel scope, projected outward, and the taste of tears was not so bitter as before. She laughed now, her hair slightly damp due to perspiration. Her cheeks wet with tears.

 

"The Sansa dance is a dialogue, but without words.  
You need to talk with your body. "

 

Then she spoke with her body, and she acted as if his mother was there. As if nothing had changed, and she felt a kind of union. She no longer thought. They were there, and she was with them. And she spoke to them with her body. Whispering them things to her every move. She whispered to her mother that she loved her, she was sorry. She whispered to her brothers they were missing, that she wanted to be closer to them. She whispered to her sister that she would find her. And then she saw her father. She wanted to hold him in her arms, to tell him that she could not longer love the autumn. She clung to the bar this time, and fell, whirling. She opened her eyes to drive them out of her mind, the ghosts of her dead family. The lights swirled, and she felt intoxicated. But it did not last. Shooting pain across her forearm, and she fell to the ground. Her dream strangely broken, she grabbed her hand, moaning. All she could see was the wall, the back of the stage. She had forgotten her wrist in her enthusiasm, and now she was paying the price. The music continued, but the spell was broken, Sansa had become again the broken doll she was. If her wrist was damaged, she had just had not helped, she was certain. She tried to get up, and staggered. And she knew she risked falling off the stage. She would fall. However, the fall never came. _Why_ ? Because there was no such thing as a vacuum. _Why_ ? She felt a chill run down her spine, while the music continued to play.

 

 _Welcome to the devil's playground,_  
_You can tread where demons play._

 

She stopped, and felt someone behind her back and a hand on her waist. She had not been able to contain the cry that came out of her mouth, or rather the roar, and a hand came the silence. And there she was, her back resting on the chest of a stranger, an unidentified hand over her mouth. It was not a violent hand, it was not a hand which required, and she withdrew softly, as if it was an instinct that had led to her lips first, but its owner went account the intimidating side of the situation.

 

 _It's your Candyland where dreamers dance,_ _  
_ _And I promise that it's safe._

 

The hand was on her waist slowly climbed to her shoulders, reassuring, and the hand that was previously on the lips of the Sansa joined. The unknown positioned itself both hands on the shoulders of Sansa, gently pushing and restoring its balance. Then he made the turn to him. Not that she needs to know who this person was, she had recognized her scent now, and his touch. Looking up at him, she noticed that the music had stopped.  
                - I didn't mean to provoke such fear, he admitted a little surprised. It's not really a place for _teenage_ _girls_ , you know, whispered Petyr.

It was strangely nice, but the kindness of his voice did not fit his face. His eyes were still cold, and a small smile played on his lips. Sansa suddenly hid her wrist behind her back, although it seems obvious that he had already noticed. She saw him frown.  
                - You got hurt ? he asked, approaching her in order to take her wrist.  
                - No, no, I assure you .. all goes well, the girl replied, stammering slightly, falling gradually as he advanced.  
                - Sansa, sighed Petyr frowning and approaching again, if you gonna lie to me ...  
                - I will not lie to you ... Sansa protested, but stopped talking when he grabbed her wrist.  
                - If you plan to lie to me, Petyr repeated by examining her wrist, trying at least to be credible.

 

It was a pretty harsh sentence, and it took time to recover. He could be a gentle man and be a thin man in a matter of seconds. He dropped slightly the grip on her wrist, seeing that she was suffering. His eyes darkened as he examined it, and saw the purple marks. He looked at her, and she felt he had realized she hadn't get hurt now. He let go of her wrist, but said nothing. He looked at her with a face that Sansa could not have described. He gave her the impression of not knowing how to act towards her. He stepped back, and Sansa realized that they had been very close within a few moments. Now he had to retreat, his presence was lacking a bit.. He had sometimes a protective aura, but she couldn't tell if she imagined it or not, because the face of Petyr Baelish betrayed no affection.  
                - As I said earlier, Petyr continued while he descended from the stage, it's not a place for _teenagers_ , here.  
                - I do not _particularly_ see myself as a teenager, you know, she snapped, a little annoyed by his condescension, and he turned to smile at her.

She knew he was playing with her, was trying to annoy her, but was not serious. But the smile faded when Petyr Baelish's eyes fell again on the wrist of the girl, and his eyes became accusingly.  
                - Yes, I know, Petyr replied coldly. You seeks to become independent, right? he added bitterly. I couln...  
                - I'm sorry, Sansa cut quickly but so weakly that she was surprised that he had even heard. I'm _really_ sorry .. About what I did before .. And also for Joffrey. I'll have to trust you, but I can not, I do.. can not. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot who can't lie, that does not even know recognize liars.. I'm a...  
                - What happened is the past, cut Petyr, talking about it will only revive it.

 

Sansa did not look up as she spoke, too stressed, too scared about him doesn't accept her apology. He was her last ally, the only person who could answer her questions, and she was afraid she had lost forever his confidence. She looked up at him, and she noticed that he has not looked away from her eyes. And that he had approached while she was spoking. If she had wanted to touch him, she only had to reach out.  
                - However, this is not a reason to let your wrist _in this state_ , he reproached. Are you completely unconscious? He asked as he forcefully laying a hand on her shoulder.  
                - I did not .. tried to answer Sansa, still looking him in the eye.  
                - You did not want what? Petyr repeated dryly. Do not want to be treated? Still happening. But put you to dance with this kind of injury, it does not even has more to unconsciousness.  
                - You .. you have seen me? Sansa asked, blushing and pushing back, embarrassed at the idea that anyone could have observe her.  
                - Yes, I saw you, Petyr answered, and I've especially seen you fall, he added, slightly cynical.  
                - But how.. ? What are you doing here ? She asked, the sudden realization of  Petyr Baelish's presence in front of her taking place.  
                - Well, that's my business as I know, he replied, laughing softly. And look above your head, he added, pointing a camera.  
                - Were you .. you were here all this time? Sansa asked, dazed, detaching her gaze from the camera.  
                - Sansa... What are you doing here? he asked seriously, ignoring her question.

                She looked into his eyes, and a ton of questions came to her mind. But she remembered the words of Lothor, and knew he would not answer her questions honestly. _He would not answer_. But she had to answer his questions. Yet something inside her told her not to respond as he would not answer her question. Something adventurous. He broke eyes contact face to her silence, and went down from the stage, beckoned her to follow him. She turned and looked at the cage, one last time, then followed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 07 will be posted later in the evening, I write right now.  
>  What do you think so far? How do you like it? I'm not completely satisfied, but I still built the arrival of the plot. It takes time, but the result will be fun.  
>  We can already see that Sansa did not leave completely do, right? Sorry again for the crappy translation. I wish I could be better in english T-T


	7. Forbidden games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O light! where are you going ? Globe exhausted flame  
> Clouds, north winds, waves, where are you running?  
> Dust, foam, night; you, my eyes; You, my soul  
> Say, if you know, where are we going all?

                He led her to the elevator, and she continued to follow him, observing him. He wore a gray suit, and his hair were immaculately coiffed. He had stopped to watch her, and she might as well not exist. She didn't understand the behavior of this man, and yet she wanted so much to understand him. To trust him. She wanted absolutely him to be a trustworthy man. The elevator stopped, and Petyr get out, heading for his office. Sansa monitoring, hesitant. He stopped at the door, then turned, giving her a look that she was unable to identify. She could not stop the fear growing inside her, and when he opened the door, she took her courage in both hands and enter into his office. He kept the door open, and she passed him, giving him a questioning look. He looked away and closed the door, except that he hadn't come into with her. She watched a second the door closed, dazed, shocked by the strangeness of this man.

 

This office was very different from that Sansa had seen in the other house. It was modern, very clean. The entire room was united in shades of brown and beige, whether armchairs, furniture. The floor was white marble, and the lights were pale yellow. However, the curtains were closed, giving a much darker mood in the room. Petyr's office was on the right, facing a sofa three up and two small armchairs. There were two libraries behind and strange little beige squares. Sansa approached the office, remembering the warning of Lothor. However, she found that watching was not necessarily dig. What attracted her attention was Petyr's computer, and on the screen she could see a lot of small windows representatives all the halls of the buildings as well as the stage on which she had danced. _Surveillance camera, that's how he saw me_. Although reflection, the building was so quiet that anyone could have hear the music.

   
After more over looked than touched the business of Petyr, Sansa went to sit on a small chair near the entrance, waiting for Petyr to come back. He returned a few minutes later with Lothor and a medical kit. The guard entered the room, throwing a little disapproving look Sansa's wrist, and she returned an embarrassed smile in return. Lothor approached her.  
                - I'm sorry, tried to explain Sansa.  
                - He was instructed not to answer your questions, but that doesn't mean you have to let you die when you don't get an answer, added ironically Petyr behind Lothor.

   
He had observed them all this time, in silence. Still now he looked at them, and Sansa could not put words on what she saw on his face. _Once again_. She stopped to look Lothor, and turned to Petyr. While Lothor prepared to treat her, Petyr had also approached and asked him to leave the room. Lothor had nodded, and went out without other words or look to Sansa. Petyr grabbed aid kit, and asked her to tender her wrist. Which she did. He gently grabbed, and examined it by touching, asking in what areas suffering was greatest. She answered his questions, watching his face as he tended her. The ointment was cold, and Petyr's touchdown was sweet. He looked very concentrated, and here she was, a little intoxicated by the feeling that enveloped her. She felt the same lightness that in her dreams or in those winter days when she was ill, when her father cared. Except that Petyr Baelish certainly was not his father. Through her dreams, she heard that she had a sprain, but nothing was broken. She shouldn't force too much. She closed her eyes for a while now, dimmed by the first marks of affections that she had felt for two weeks. Now she felt he wrapped a bandage around her wrist, gently. He was gifted, and seemed accustomed to such things. She realized he had stopped talking. And when he had finished making the bandage, only silence remained. But one sentence came to break that silence. A phrase that sounded strangely hollow to Sansa. " _You should not trust me._ " She opened her eyes, wondering if she had dreamed and fell face to face with Petyr's, his green eyes. She stopped breathing. His face was close to hers, and he scrutinized, expressionless.  
                - I do not have to...  
                - You have trust in Lothor, don't you? asked Petyr grabbing one of her bangs. But you musn't, and you aren't wrong to doubt me, he added slowly, I can be dangerous... Especially against _bad investments_.

 

Sansa could see the smallest details of his eyes, and noticed that they were not so cold they appeared there. They looked like the ocean, tumultuous. And this man was like the ocean. She could feel his smell, the smell of mint wrap, and suddenly she remembered her dream. Her mind suggested to her things that troubled her, that she would never have dared to do. But could she do it? She blushed, seriously wondering what credit give to a simple dream. This idea, coupled with the proximity of Petyr's, only aggravated her condition. " _I didn't kiss him, didn't_? _"_ wondered the girl. Even in her dreams, it had never been her goal. She had not wanted that, absolutely not. And she had no idea, if it happened, what the man in front of her though about it. She doubted more. She met his eyes again, but saw nothing dangerous.  
                - I do not believe you, she replied instinctively.  
                - What are you.. You do not believe me? Petyr repeated, a little threatening.  
                - You wouldn't hurt me, I know it, just added Sansa, searching his eyes.  
                - How can you tell? He asked with a frown.  
                - I know it, that's all.  
                - So, you think you know me? He added, raising an eyebrow now.  
                - No... But I think I know what you want, she lied.

   
Petyr's gaze intensified and he laughed, a little smile a corner that appears on his face. He pulled his hand to cheek Sansa, grabbing her chin. He brought his face close to hers, slowly. Sansa did not understand what he attentait to first, but when she realized she could only hold her breath. " _No, he will not do that, anyway._ " thought the girl paralyzed " _He has no reason to do it, no._ " she reassured him as he approached her more, never leaving her eyes. And greater realization that others had in mind Sansa; that if he kissed her, she would not mind. " _Damn, this man at the age of my father_ " Sansa thought, trying to reason herself. But his lips were so close to hers now, she could breathe the air he expired. If she rose barely her bust, she could touch him. And she wanted to know, she needed to know if she had ever kissed him. If the feeling was the same as she had experienced in her dreams. She felt his lips down her neck, and she shivered. He went up to her face, and she closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her. She waited. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes, surprised and a little shocked. Petyr had retreated and looked at her face.  
                - It was almost credible, this time, Petyr confessed, a little smile.  
                - You..  
                - I've told you, Sansa, I'm a dangerous man. _Men are dangerous_. I could take you out of that chair, right now, if I had had the fancy, as Joffrey. And you... You'll be you merely suffer, slave of your _own fear_ , he added, laughing and raising his eyebrows.

   
Petyr had a smirk and turned his back, still laughing. He walked to his desk, even doing no more attention to Sansa. " _He is just playing with me_ " Sansa thought, a little bit annoyed.  
                - You did not hurt me, Sansa replied.  
                - No, I did not, but I could have, retorted cynically Petyr.  
                - But you did not, stressed Sansa, and you wouldn't have done it.  
                - _Really_ ? Petyr asked, turning toward him, not laughing anymore.

  
After a moment, he smiled and laughed again deeply. That laugh seemed the most sincere she heard from his lips, and the most painful. " _Of course he would not, idiot._ " if she reproached. " _And he would never let a littlegirl kissed him_ " She realized how much she was naive. In all this, something irritated her, and she did not find exactly what. Was it because she was stupid and naive, or because she had fallen in his game? She was upset for something else, she knew it. Upset because he saw her as an ordinary teenager. Because she wanted to get to win his confidence, him to find her quite worthwhile to answer her questions, and he saw her as a kid irresponsible and a potential bad investment. He stopped laughing and Sansa noticed the tension in his eyes. He had become Littlefinger, and he walked away from her, going to sit on his desk.  
                - Sit there, he ordered, pointing to one of his seats in front of the desk, and she complied.

  
He leaned with his elbows on his desk, looking at her, but saying nothing. Sansa waited, but he continued to look at her, and she realized he was waiting whether she speaks. She inhaled deeply, a little bit irritated.  
                - And now what, she asked a little nervous, I'm a prisoner?  
                - If you prefer to see it like that, Petyr sighed, leaning on the back of his chair, so be it, but I don't think that's what you want.  
                - _What I want,_ repeated Sansa skeptical, and since when am I was asked my opinion? I do... How could you just know what I want, anyway?

  
She had pronounced the sentence the same way he had done moments earlier, when he had stated that she couldn't know what he wanted. Now he smiled, seeming to enjoy this game. He raised an eyebrow, and his smile suggested to Sansa that he knew what she wanted.  
                - It's my job to know what people want, _Sansa_.  
                - And if you were wrong, she replied to the cause, would you still as _credible_?  
                - I'm _never_ wrong, he said firmly, his gaze resting his words.  
                - So tell me, what do I want? What is my deepest wish, _Petyr_?

   
In truth, Sansa had no idea if Petyr Baelish was a dangerous man or not. She was certain that he worked for Lannister there is a little time, and then he killed Joffrey. He helped her, but had he really _saved her_? She didn't know. She got in the game of this man, _this dangerous man_ , but had no idea of the turn of the events. She could end hostage, prisoner or be dead tomorrow morning. No, she could not trust him, and would never be able to trust anyone. And that since she had realized that Joffrey had never loved her, since her heart had been broken again. Petyr was a brothel owner, was likely involved in the death of her aunt, and didn't hesitate to threaten her when she refused to follow him. Now he kept her locked in one of his establishments, and played with her. Why Sansa wasn't frightened, she didn't know. Perhaps because of the dream she did every night, maybe because she wanted to find within himself the warm man of her dreams. And now she found herself playing with him, to cause, and few share these exchanges resembled those she had him with her sister Arya. These conversations where the tone was rising with each new trade, or each of the two sisters trying to dominate the other, these conversations where they loved to hate the others. These conversations always ended with the victory of Arya. Sansa had always been the one who lost.  
                - You hate yourself, don't you? he asked her, but she knew it wasn't a question.  
                - You haven't answered my question, she pointed out.  
                - Oh yes, assesses Petyr, watching her, you hate yourself. And you hate the hair of yours.  
                - I do not ha...  
                - You lie, sweetling, cut Petyr, and the next time you'll lied to me, you'll regret it.

   
He was very serious. Deadly serious. Sansa felt the threat, and for a moment she wondered if he might hurt her. Something  in her didn't believe it, needed to think she still had an ally. But she realized with all this she was that naive again; as she wouldn'tt know his real intentions, he should always be considered as a neutral person, and she must especially do not trust him. The last two weeks, she was required to have betrayed, and wanted him to forgive her. Now she realized that this did not really matter. In the eyes of Petyr, she was probably a form of investment.  
                - Because you don't like this hair, you'll not see any disadvantage to dye them, I suppose?  
                - No one.  
                - And if I asked you as you hate yourself, began Petyr ever more provocative. As you hate yourself, do you find any inconvenience in the fact of dying, sweetling?

 

He was still deadly serious, and his eyes pierced her. His gaze froze her blood. She thought at top speed, wondering why he could ask her that question. Was it really about to die? Did she really wanted to live, after all? " _Why do I stay alive?_ " she asked. " _For your sister,_ " replied a voice in her head. " _Because you have things still to do before dying_. _This is not the moment._ "

"Not now."

   
No, not now. She could die after seeing the face of Tywin Lannister deformed by suffering, she knew. She could die, but only once the fire in her heart off. And if for that she had to resist facing the man in front of her, she would. And if Petyr Baelish worked for Tywin Lannister, so she would face him, she would. Few imported the consequences.  
                - That's it... That's the right spirit, Petyr murmured, rising from his chair.  
                - What do you... Sansa began, rising from her chair instinctively.

                He approached her and raised his arm. Sansa stepped back and found herself locked against his office. She had no option but to confront him. She was sure he would not hurt her, but she looked around her, seeking a way out, then she felt his hand on her shoulder. She dared not look at him, not wanting to know. She was afraid that the man of her dreams disappear, transforms into her worst nightmares. She hated herself to be as low.  
                - Look at me, _Sansa_ , he ordered, and she looked up.

He imprisoned the curve of her face in his palm, and looked at her kindly.  
                - You have the same eyes as your mother... murmured sadly Petyr, his thumb under the left eye of Sansa, stroking her cheek. You're going to die Sansa, but not the way you think, he added, gently pulling his hand off. Sansa Stark is going to die, the little girl is going to die, Petyr whispered in his ear. The child in you _must die_ , and you have to let the adult reborn.  
                - Leave... The adult reborn Sansa murmured, shivering under his touch, closing her eyes.  
                - You will never be able to kill Tywin Lannister as you are now _Sansa_ , whispered Petyr wedging gently against his office. And _I'll be the one_ who shall kill you.

 

With these words she opened her eyes, trying to answer, but she did not have time. In a flash, she saw two green eyes closer to her, and his mouth captured hers. Petyr put a hand behind her neck, keeping his face close to hers, trapping her in his embrace. The flavor of mint radiated Sansa's mouth, her lips. Sweet, cool but hot. Lost, shocked, she was flooded by a new sensation, and when the hands of Petyr went down to her lower back, she could not help shuddering. He tightened the hug, pinning her body against his, and the kiss that until then had remained chaste became increasingly passionate, burning. Sansa answered it, instinctively, finally finding the same fullness that in her dreams. She passed her good hand through his hair, and the world suddenly ceased to exist. Flooded by his warmth, his passion, his sweetness. But he broke the kiss, and gently pushed her, detaching his hands of her body. Sansa looked at him, speechless and breathless.  
                - I'll be the one who will change you, whispered Petyr removing her hand from his hair.

   
He stepped back, and Sansa found him also lost it, too winded. But the man regained control of himself, and it was as if all traces of what had happened had been erased. Petyr's face became as unreadable as before, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he watched her leaning on his desk.  
                - I'm _never_ wrong, Sansa repeated Petyr smiled. Here it is, your deepest wishes.

   
Sansa was certain now that she had kissed him. And he played with her again and again. Nor does he only spoke of revenge, but of what she had done this night. The kiss. He walked to the door, and Sansa watched him, still speechless. " _He did it_ " she realized. " _And worse, you kissed him that night_ ," whispered a voice in her head. He stopped at the door, and before Sansa could formulate a sentence, he motioned her to be quiet.  
                - I asked Lothor buy you something to dye hair, we'll talk later, he said, never ceasing to smile. The next time you provoke me again, don't underestimate me, sweetling.

  
She looked out of the room, aware of her defeat. She had lost this game. She felt humiliated and stupid to have fallen into his trap. From the beginning, he wanted to prove he was right, that she knew nothing of him. She had provoked him, had told him he would never dare to kiss her, and he did. She had challenged him to find her deepest desires, and he had unearthed them. He knew she was burning for revenge, and desperately in need of heat. Her heart was still broken. Petyr Baelish was right, she hated herself. And she had to change. She would never succeed in anything, as she was. She had loved deeply Joffrey, she had loved her family and all, one after the others had gone. From it, there were only broken pieces. There was only him, Petyr Baelish, to pick up what was left of the fragments of her soul. But he wouldn't be the one who could give her the affection she wanted, he had made it very clear. The man of her dreams was only a mirage, a product of her imagination. And she was far from understanding Petyr. No, he was the one who will destroy her even more, and he had warn her. Would he hurt her? She did not know. But she did not care. He would be one that would at least give her something, revenge. Words were anchored with a hot iron in the spirit of Sansa, whom he had spoken, closing the door.

 

_"You are not alone in wanting the fall of Tywin Lannister."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I was very hesitant about this chapter. I had a lot of things I wanted to incorporate within, but sometimes the dialogue seemed too heavy. In my course of audiovisual, is well taught me this phrase: "Show, do not tell." then I would have liked to apply a little more.
> 
> I must admit that first I did not want them kissing at this time, but it came alone. Now I'm going to deal with that haha. I quickly reviewed my chapter, I will correct mistakes later, there must be some. But I was late, and I wanted to post it tonight.
> 
> Btw, that's how I saw the office Petyr. More or less.
> 
>  


	8. Political games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The virtue succumbing under the unpunished boldness,  
> The imposture in honor, the banished truth;  
> Wandering freedom.  
> To the alive gods of the world offered in sacrifice;  
> and the strength, everywhere, basing of the injustice;  
> The unlimited reign.

Tywin was angry, extremely angry. Around the table, all looked, and nobody dared to speak. It already made a few minutes that Tywin had stopped speaking, and he waited for an answer. A concrete, clear answer and especially precise. Petyr could feel the tension in the room, and he knew very well of what the young man in front of him was afraid of. He felt a little bitsorry, almost, but not enough to sacrifice himself for a beginner, and even less a new one. He was the last one arrived, and would be the first one abandoned in case of problem. Tywin got up from the seat, slowly, and the young man held his breath, all the looks diverging towards him.  
\- I am going to be very clear, began Tywin slowly, I wait for a clear and precise answer. I ask you once again gentlemen, who is the bastards responsible for the muck-up in which we are?  
  
He managed his look towards Petyr, and one moment he believed to reveal in his look the shadow of a suspicion, but Tywin continued to observe one by one each of the men around the table. He began moving forward, and he had the step of a predator tracking his prey. _Sansa Stark_. Petyr knew very well about what spoke Tywin, he knew very well for what he looked, and it had been now one month since he looked for her desperately. The only error, the only smudge, the only spot in the perfect plan of Tywin Lannister. The young Stark was a direct threat to Tywin and for his claims and political projects. And Petyr knew it very well, and he was delighted about that. The great Tywin Lannister, so proud, had just lost his small son, and also a future westorossien member of parliament. Joffrey Lannister, although he was an idiot in the eyes of Petyr, was an important trump card for Tywin in the sense either that rash he was easily handleable, and Tywin needed him by far. Need him for the parliament. " _And I pulled him a bullet in his head_ " thought Petyr, at the same time anxious to have been too careless but also satisfied. Satisfied with the turn of the events. He had calculated nothing, had not even had time there, the situation was very too urgent in the time. Sansa Stark, his major component, had almost been got back by Tywin and always at the moment he felt bad of such a carelessness. It would have been able to end in so much working year if he only had made a single error. An error and the work of a whole life would have been erased. All this for a girl, because of her. He already regretted, and wondered if she was really worth it. If he did well to keep her alive. He could return her from Tywin, gain his confidence, take up levels to strike him even better on the back. But Petyr knew the importance of Sansa Stark, he knew very well that she would play a major role in his political machinations, and he preferred it alive woman that dead. Something at the bottom of him, something that he did not any more manage to master was attracted by the girl.

 

Whereas Tywin continued to inspect each of his collaborators, it seems to Petyr that he could see Sansa dancing in front of the eyes, in the twilight of his nightclub. He saw her again turning, crying and smiling at the same time. And he remembered the fragile girl whom he had got back in wood, so similar to her mother and full of blood. And a sentence resounded in his spirit. She had pronounced it so simply, but with such a strength. She had hung on to the life so firmly, hung on to him, crossing her frail arms around his shoulders, coiling the face in the nape of his neck, and she had murmured it. "Not now." And he had wanted to help her. He had not managed to help Catelyn, not managed to save her, even after all these years. He had no power for it. And it demoralized him, it drove him crazy. After all these years, he still hadn't the power necessary to save, to protect what he care for. Then he had got back her, unguardedly. Because he had the power of it, because he could. Because he could save her at least. He had then cleaned, looked after her, and contrary to all expectations she had kissed him. So softly that he almost had not almost sent it at the beginning. And he had paniced. He had lowered his guarding, and it never had to arrive again.

 

She was dangerous, and he had realized it later. Curious, also. When he had entered his office in Lysa's house, the look which she had thrown to him was ampli of fear, and accusating. She had not even thanked him, just suspected. It shouldn't surprises Petyr, nobody has never thanked him for anything previously, but something at the bottom of him wanted her gratitude. But the girl did not seem to even remember it, nor even that she had kissed him. He was an unknown for her. And it had hurt, slightly hurt him. He had took risks for this girl, had watch her, while he would have been able to let het die. And she cursed him, refused to obey, and had run away, putting him in danger. He had then decided in this day, by observing her next to Joffrey's corpse; he must not become attached to the girl, because she was what would confer on him the power. She was the one who would allow him to raise himself at the top, always higher. She must be a pieces, and nothing more. But by seeing her dancing, the child in him had cried. The child in him had been sad. Thus and he had realized that the child in him had not died. And then, she had begun to play his game. And he liked something there inside, in this continual duel which they seemed to have. She thought that he could never hurt her, and nevertheless he was there, next to Tywin Lannister, discussing inside is head on the idea to deliver her or not to him. And he had seen it in her eyes, that she remembered having kissed him. He had read it in her eyes, in her body movements. She would be a pieces in his game, she had to remain so, but it did not mean that he could not have fun a little bit with her. Then he had kissed her, making sure to bind the girl to him infinitely. Wishing to hasten her spirit, to mark her so hardly as she would think only of him in the future. He could read in her eyes the desire for blood, and the loneliness, the desire for heat. He saw himself in her eyes. He saw what she could become, but for this... He had to change her. And he would change her, he would make of her the perfect weapon. And once all this ended, he would get rid of her. There should be no track of what he prepared, and she was an important witness. A major weakness. A fault.

 

Petyr raised his eyes, and what he sees did not amaze him. Tywin had stopped behind the new one. He was called Martyn according to the memories of Petyr. A small young banker who had gone into politics, but very too naïve and prudish. Petyr had known from the first look that with the slightest prank he would have been the first victim, that he would have been devoured. The men are wolves for the other men, and at this precise moment he was rejected by the pack. Petyr saw them all, giving accusatory looks on the poor Martyn. Really, he was not absolutely responsible for the whole turn of the events, the main person in charge was Bolton. Bolton was the one who had committed the mercenaries, and had organized the attack. Martyn was only his underling, a handyman. But his shield also. And at the moment, Bolton glared at Martyn, without a shadow of a regret, deprived of any guilt. And Petyr knew that it should always be a person guilty in the eyes of Tywin. The loss of his grandson and Sansa Stark's escape making him even more dangerous.  
\- Not only, murmured Tywin, you put in danger our group Martyn, but you are also responsible for the death... of my grandson.  
\- I swear you sir that I... began to stammer Martyn, paniced.  
\- Don't swear anything, cut him Tywin, and the next time you speak you will experience the same fate as my grandson, a bullet in the head. You disappoint me, Martyn. I had big hopes in you. You disappoint me, really.  
\- Wait I don't..  
\- Free me of this guy, I don't want to see him anymore, ordered Tywin by moving the hand. I don't want to see anyonr anymore, get out of here, all of you, he added.

 

Petyr observed the other men getting up from the table, and he also watched Martyn being escorted outside the meeting room. He would be, without doubt, found dead tomorrow, in a gap. His family would also receive a letter of the group, and the most sincere condolences of Tywin. Petyr got up, a little tired by the last two weeks. He had crossed his plan to contact his collaborators, to sign a contract, to take care of diverse spots instead of Tywin, to work in the shade.  
\- No, not you, Littlefinger, stay here, ordered Tywin while Petyr was going to go out of the room.  
  
  
  
Petyr turned around and observed the man, gauging him. Tywin looked through the window, they were in the twentieth floor and the city extended in front of the old man. He observed it as if it belonged to him, as if the whole world, the horizon fell under its domination. Petyr turned to sit down, waiting for the orders of Tywin. It did not have time to take care either of the budget of the campaign, or the speeches of Tywin, but to be councillors politics of Tywin Lannister had some advantages. He held Tywin in his hand, and any time he could crush him, ruin him. Possible, but very too dangerous, and its rear not being well enough protected, the end of Tywin would have meant his own end. No, he had to be more discreet. However, with Sansa's arrival and his own projects, an extra work would only weigh down even more his schedule. Which meant much fewer time to prepare its secret weapon, Sansa.

 

\- Where is the accounts of the campaign, Baelish? He said, never leaving the horizon of eyes.  
\- Baelish? Answered Petyr by chuckling, it is rare to hear you calling me by my name, Tywin.  
\- Oh, enough formality, Tywin got impatient by turning around, where are we with these cursed accounts?  
\- I really cannot refuse you anything Tywin, laughed Petyr. For the moment we have supports of Tyrells enterprises, and our actions grows. We have many profits, but I shall advise you of diversified a  little your investisseme...  
\- Made thus, made thus, got impatient Tywin. Tell me rather where we are there in the campaign, not where you find funds, their origin imports me little.  
\- Well, Petyr continued slightly stretched out, we collected enough money to begin the advertising campaign. Most of the radios accepted our proposal, and we also have supports of some journalists. The editorial staff of Daily News assured us some supports... However, continued Petyr more carefully, there is the case of this famous Brienne.  
\- Brienne? Asked Tywin and frowning.  
\- The rising star of the Daily paper of opposition belonging to Renly Baratheon, she refuses quite alliance. Excess.. Far too many principles, added Petyr with a light contempt.  
\- You asked her directly? Barked Tywin, by knocking on the table.  
\- Absolutely not, defended forbade himself Petyr, you know me Tywin, I shall not make this kind of error, he reassured him. However, our intermediary did not return unhurt, and she may have... burned the money.  
  
  
  
Tywin kept silent during a few moments. He kept his fist tight, but his spirit was somewhere else. Petyr observed him, guessing in advance what brewed in the mind of the old man. It was always like that with Tywin, not of half measure. And Petyr had planned it, for weeks. His consent, just a sentence was needed only, and it was good.  
\- Renly Baratheon, murmured Tywin by caressing the table. This young bothers me, a lot... And now, he eyes the actions of his brother, right?

\- You want me to... Petyr carefully began.

\- Free me of him, ordered Tywin by raising eyes towards Petyr.  
\- Well, sir, answered Petyr with a half-smile. Something else, sir? Asked for Petyr, always a little bit derisive.

 

Tywin gave at him a disapproving look, but Petyr knew very well that the old man was used to his playful character. He liked even maybe that, although he does not tolerate it enormously. Tywin returned to sit down on his seat, thoughful. Petyr got up, considering wise to leave him in his reflections, to leave before he asks for another service which would only be, again, his timetable weighing down.  
\- Littlefinger, called back Tywin while Petyr reached the door.  
  
  
  
Petyr turned around slowly, swearing inside but keeping an artificial smile printed on the face. He hated when Tywin gave him all the dirty work, he had to make already quite enough with his own business. He was his political adviser, but not his handyman. He also hated hearing this nickname go out of his mouth, the name which people gave him in the slums, his working name. The name which every guys of the job respected. But in the mouth of Tywin, it rang as an insult. And Petyr hated that. Tywin stared at him, inflexible. And Petyr known what he was going to ask him.

" Not, no, no. It is not my work that, it is the one of Bolton. " Thought Petyr, annoyed. He made a sign to Tywin that he was ready to hear hid request.  
\- You will take care to find the child Stark, ordered Tywin. Died, or alive, I don't care. Free me of her, and fast. Prove me that you are not the same kind as these incompetent which I have just thrown to the door, he sent.  
  
  
  
Petyr cursed inside, then considered the numerous advantages of the thing. Although it is only complicating the task. It was not exactly what he had planned, he had even rather been afraid of it. He was not dominant any more in the search for Sansa Stark, and Tywin had just taken away the hand. He had to give results, or then he would be suspected. Petyr sighed, and gave a look tired to Tywin, trying to make him understand that he already had a lot of work. And it was true. Get rid of Renly would already take a lot of time, and he had it only little at arrangement. But the old man ignored his silent complaint.

\- The girl Stark, cut Tywin. It will be everything, Littlefinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, I put a lot of time posting it... With my university entrance, I had many things to do. I came back from Belgium, I have to move into my apartment. And my computer was in "revision" at my IT specialist because an important file had mysteriously disappeared. As a result, here we are. It is little, but the suite is in progress. I wrote a summary of ten next ones chapters, thus to write them will not have to take me too much time. Still saddened, and do not worry, I am not the kind to to abandon a story or to stop writing.


End file.
